


go out standing

by andreawritesandrambles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:57:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andreawritesandrambles/pseuds/andreawritesandrambles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It ends with a whimper rather than a bang, and the last thing he thinks about is her." | Or: The plan to save Lydia doesn't actually work out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	go out standing

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, my hands have been itching to write this for weeks, but I could not actually put it into words till yesterday. It is my first time writting Stydia but I have been reading it for a really long time, and I love these characters to death, so I hope I did them justice.

When he wakes, there is nothing but darkness around him. Stiles feels exactly the same as when he was five years old and woke up from a nightmare. Sweat is covering his forehead and his back, his hands are shaking and his breath is caught in his throat. But it is not there that the similarities end, the comparison between his physical state then and now, his body's response to trauma, to fear. It is his mind's reaction that taunts him, that leaves him breathless time after time, scare after scare. Because it is not light he yearns for, or answers. He yearns for one thing, one person alone. He wants his mother. 

He stands, shaking his head at the thought, at the homesickness-like feeling that threatens to overcome him yet again, even after a decade of mourning. He doesn't have time to analyze his subconscious, to question himself. He has more important things to do, more urgent matters to attend to.

_Lydia._

Her name, like a prayer on his lips comes crashing out of him before Stiles can stop it. He has to go get her, to save her from the true terror she must have succumbed to. 

"Scott?!" He yells, even when he knows nobody'll hear. There was mountain ash all around the deepest end of Eichen House, there was no way another member of the pack could be close enough to hear him, super strong hearing and all. However, he knew this, he was aware of the danger he was getting himself into, even if he had not admitted it to anyone else. He could see everyone else understood, though. He recognized it in Scott's eyes, and in his dad's and in Melissa's - the realization that there was a real possibility that he could not do this. The fat that there was a real chance Stiles could not save Lydia, and the unwavering reality that he would die trying. 

Lydia.

Stiles tries to shake off any remains of fear left in his trembling form. He is going to do this, he is going to create a new plan, a better plan, and he is getting her the hell out. Even if it kills every damned person in Beacon Hills. 

\---

"Oh, fuck- c'mon!" His left hand is bleeding and his head hurts almost as much as that time he was knocked unconscious at this very place, but he is not giving up, just a couple more pushes and- the door is unlocked. There is nothing but silence and darkness in the corridor ahead, but he can feel, rather than see, Lydia's presence in the room at the far corner. He wants to put it off to their emotional tether connection, but he knows it’s something deeper, something they created themselves, this ability to know at all times where the other one is, to know for a fact they're coming without having to look up, to be able to feel the other instead of seeing them. He thanks God (the one he only believes in at times like this) that whatever it is helps him find her. 

She is laying in what looks like an operating table, her arms and legs tied to the board and her expression blank, her eyes looking up at the sealing, void and unfocused. 

"Ly- please tell me you're awake?" His voice is barely a whisper, and he doesn't think that she has heard him until he finally reaches her and he can see that she is fighting back her urge to scream. 

"Oh my god, Lydia. I'm gonna get you out, fuck, I swear, just hang in there, just please don't scream." Stiles unties the ropes that are restraining her and helps her to her feet, mind going a thousand miles per second trying to figure out a way, anyway, of preventing this. 

"Do you think you can speak? Let me know how to help you?" He asks once she's leaning on him, her arms tangled around his shoulders.  _(He thinks briefly about how he used to dream about Lydia leaning on him like that, about her head on his shoulder and his arm holding her up, and he wants to beat himself for it, because there isn't anything he wouldn't give to see her stand on her own now, to see her walk around in those high heels of hers and be herself again.)_

Stiles takes his phone out and dials Deaton's number, praying that he'll know the way to stop this from happening, to stop her from dying. 

"Help, please." He begs when the line clicks on. "How do I stop it, she has a hole in her head and she is fighting it, but I swear to God she is going to scream."

"Stiles." The voice, raspy and low, isn't Deaton's and Stiles wonders when he became so observant, to know just by hearing Scott's voice over the phone that there is nothing they could do about it. "Stiles, it's okay, it's going to be okay."

_(He can't stop himself from picturing what the life he could have had would have looked like. Lydia in a white dress, her strawberry blonde hair lose around her slender shoulders and her eyes as green as ever. Scott standing in a tuxedo next to him, unable to keep himself from fidgeting, his fingers tapping his leg, a huge smile on his lips as he looks over at Allison at the other side of the altar. His dad, tall and proud clutching Melissa's hand in his own._

_A big house, with a white picket fence built far away from Beacon Hills but close to everyone they love. Three little children, hair as golden as the sun and eyes as green emeralds, grinning up at him from the mess they made at their backyard. Lydia laughing her heart off, chasing their dog around the house, baby proofing every surface of their living room for the millionth time and threatening to kill him if he so much as suggests getting another take out that night.)_

He can't stop the tear that runs down his face, the pain in his heart that he thinks can only compare to the pain  _she_ is feeling right now. 

"Just get away, okay?" He is crying now, clutching Lydia's waist tighter against his own. "Grab my dad and Melissa and get the hell out. Please, do that for me?"

"There is no time, Stiles, we are all here, just outside of Eichen. I just wanted you to know it's okay, you're a hero, for getting that far, at least she's not alone." Scott's voice breaks over the phone and Stiles tries to remember the last time he had heard his best friend so resigned. He doesn't want to be a fucking hero, he wants to save her. 

"I'll call you back." 

As soon as the line is dead, he drops the phone and clutches Lydia's cheeks with his hands. 

"It's okay, Lydia, it'll be fine, this is not your fault." He wipes her tears with his thumbs in a useless attempt to stop her from crying. 

He is not surprised when she suppresses a sob and stands shakily on her own. He is not surprised when her eyes suddenly dry up and her glance focuses finally on him, she is the strongest person he knows, after all. He is taken aback, however, when Lydia places her hands on his face, when she draws his lips to hers and kisses him for the second time in his life. (And sure, he's kissed some other girls, some of which he even cared about, one of which he even loved, but none of them, none of those kisses compare to this one.)

Lydia's lips are soft on his, and her hands play with the hair that's grown too long at the back of his head, as he is overcome by the staggering realization that this is no beginning, that this is not the hello he'd daydreamed about his whole adolescent life but a goodbye, a long, suffering, sweet goodbye. 

"I love you." She mimics against his lips, unable to speak and he thinks that if the mortal wave caused by her scream doesn't kill him, those words will. "I've known it for a long time, and I regret every minute I spent without telling you. I love you, and I'm going to miss you so much."

"I love you too, always have, always will." Stiles promises, kissing her again, never wanting this moment to end but yearning endlessly for the pain to stop for her. "It's time."

He picks up the phone and dials back. "We have a minute." He explains, taking her hand in his and helping her lower herself to the ground, seating behind her, shielding her from everything but the one thing he can't save her from. 

"Sweetie," it's her mom's voice, and Stiles wants to cry at the face Lydia makes, like she can't believe the world gave her one last chance. 

"Mom?"  The single world pains her, her throat probably sore from all the pain from suppressing her screams. 

"Oh, baby girl, I'm so sorry. For everything. You're the bravest, strongest, most wonderful kid I could have ever hoped for. I'm sorry I failed you, I'm sorry I could not save you."

"It's not your fault." She says this looking straight into Stiles's eyes, and he knows without a doubt that the statement is meant for him as well. "There's nothing you could have done, nothing but what you did, and I'm so thankful for it, so thankful for you." She squeezes his hand, nodding, more to herself than to him as she passes the phone back to him. 

He manages to choke out an "I love you" to his dad, Scott and Melissa while he closes his eyes and pulls her close, burring his head in her neck and kissing her collarbone. When the line goes dead, Lydia stands up again, and he doesn't have the heart to tell her that it'll all be the same, that as soon as the scream leaves her lips she'll collapse and so will he, because if Lydia Martin wants to go out standing, he is going to be right by her side, holding her hand. 

\--  
It ends as soon as it begins, with a whimper rather than a bang, and the last thing he thinks about is how warm her hand feels in his, how perfect it fits, as if it was meant to belong there, as if it should have been there all along.

**Author's Note:**

> (Also, if you have any Stydia fic recs for me please let me know in the comment section?)


End file.
